After completing her registration at the Guild, Lux's return to the apothecary shop was a measured tread. Her earlier spring in her step had faded into something more thoughtful, a subtle weight settling in her mind. The sheer, terrifying scale of the dungeon, as described in that grim tome, now provided a stark, logical explanation for how such an immense quantity of stone for building was available despite there being no visible quarry scarring the immediate landscape. The city, she realized, had been quietly harvesting from underground, pulling its very bones from that churning, living pit beneath them.
When she arrived at the shop, it was sparsely populated—only a few customers lingered, each carrying the air of seasoned adventurers. Something in how they moved, how their eyes scanned the shelves, the quiet confidence in their posture, told her these were not first-timers, but individuals hardened by countless trials.
She informed Bernie of her successful registration, her voice carefully modulated. The older woman, a serene presence amidst the scent of herbs and subtle magic, nodded and wordlessly handed her a cup of steaming herbal tea. The quiet in the shop was thick, a comfortable silence. Lux took a few sips, the familiar bitterness grounding her, before her innate impatience, a restless energy that often warred with her more reserved demeanor, got the better of her.
"So… when do we start training?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on Bernie. "And what's the first step?"
Bernie finally responded, her ancient eyes twinkling, with a soft sigh and a sideways glance towards Rumi. "First, young one, we get you geared up for this new life. A proper weapon, armor that'll keep your hide safe, the basics. You'll learn a thing or two on the way. Go to **Eitri's forge**. Rumi will show you the way."
The two stepped outside. The crisp winter air bit at Lux's cheeks, but her mind was already alight with anticipation. They hadn't walked long, the rhythmic crunch of their boots on the packed earth the only sound, before Lux's insatiable curiosity bubbled over, an unrestrainable force. "So… what kind of pact did you make with your elder?" she asked Rumi, her eyes narrowing slightly, squinting suspiciously as if trying to peer into Rumi's very soul.
Rumi glanced her way, a faint, wry smile touching her lips, then looked back ahead, the silence stretching for a deliberate beat. Finally, she exhaled, a soft puff of white mist in the cold air. "That's not something you just go around discussing, little one. Pacts are personal, they are. But since it's you, and you probably don't know much about how they work…"
Lux pouted, her lips twisting into a rare, indignant expression. "Well, excuse me for losing my mother and having no one around to teach me about such things."
The silence that followed this time was heavier, imbued with an understanding that transcended words. Eventually, Rumi spoke again, her voice softer, tinged with a quiet reverence.
"The Verdantvow. That's the name of mine. It means I can't lie outright. My words have to reflect nature's law—honest, brutal, clear, like a winter storm. If I speak falsehoods, the pact frosts. I get cut off from the Elder's power, from my own senses, until I endure a symbolic winter—a personal trial of humility or hardship. It's a harsh mistress, the truth."
She shrugged lightly, a fluid movement. "In return, I got minor healing, remarkably sharp senses in nature—I can read the forest like a book, even in winter—stamina that doesn't quit, and slow aging. Among other things that reveal themselves in time."
"Wow…" Lux breathed, her eyes gleaming with unmasked wonder. "That is genuinely **cool**. I want to make a contract like that too!"
Rumi chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Well, it's not something you do just 'cause it 'sounds cool,' kid. It's a part of your soul, a literal bond. It takes more than just wanting it."
Despite the gentle admonishment, Lux remained fascinated. They chatted about trivialities and the mundane logistics of Nightgale for the rest of their short walk, the air lighter with this newfound shared secret.
---
Eitri's forge stood squat and sturdy, a block of darkened stone that seemed to absorb all light and warmth from the outside world. It perpetually smelled of scorched earth, hot iron, and the faint, bitter tang of quenched steel, a raw, primal aroma. Inside, it was hotter than hell's kitchen, the air shimmering with the intense heat radiating from the colossal, roaring forge and the glowing, spitting coals. The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil echoed, a powerful, primal beat that seemed to vibrate through the very stone floor.
The man himself, Eitri, was a sight. He looked as if he'd been carved directly from soot-stained granite, massive and unyielding. His hair was a wild, tangled mass, braided haphazardly back from his craggy face, and his beard—thick as wool, woven with flecks of grey—twitched with every word. His presence was volcanic—smoldering, slow-moving, yet possessed of immense, raw power.
He gave Lux a look, half appraising, half amused, his bright, ember-like eyes taking in her youthful frame. "Alright, lass," he rumbled, his voice a thick Highland burr, deep and gravelly, "whit'll it be, then? No' much time for dilly-dallyin'."
She remembered the tree spirit's guidance, her words echoing Bernie's calm directness: a breastplate, greaves, gear that wouldn't weigh her down. A halberd—long reach, good power, less need for finesse.
"I need armor that won't slow me," she said, her voice clear despite the roar of the forge. "And… a halberd, if you have one."
Eitri squinted, his lips curling in thought, a faint hum rumbling in his chest. "Aye… ye've got the build for it, I reckon. Strength wi' nae skill, ye say? A halberd'll do ye good till ye learn tae dance wi' steel, lass. It's an honest weapon for honest folk."
He turned, his massive frame moving with surprising agility for his bulk, rummaging through crates and racks filled with gleaming, half-finished metalwork, the rhythmic clangs of steel on steel filling the air like a discordant symphony. Eventually, he returned, laying the requested items before her on a scarred wooden bench—a tough, supple leather breastplate subtly reinforced with bone-stitch, new, sturdy leather boots with prominent, sharpened metal soles for improved grip, and a formidable halberd, its haft dark and polished, its wicked blade etched with faint, almost imperceptible glowing runes that pulsed with a soft, inner light.
Her eyes widened, drawn by the subtle magic, by the craft and power humming within the metal. "These runes," she began immediately, her voice quickening with excitement. "How are they made? Can you teach me?"
Eitri blinked, clearly caught between a scowl and outright disbelief. He let out a strangled sound, half-snort, half-choke. "Teach ye?!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the forge. "Ye barely ken the difference 'tween a smithy and a stewpot, and ye want tae learn tae carve magic intae metal? Hmph! The cheek of some o' ye youngsters!"
Before he could continue his tirade, Rumi, ever watchful, swiftly grabbed Lux by the collar of her tunic, her grip firm and surprisingly strong. "We're done here," she stated, pulling Lux firmly towards the door.
"But I want to know more about how it's made!" Lux protested, tugging against Rumi's hold, her curiosity overriding her usual composure.
"Out," Rumi's voice was sharper, a clear command that brooked no argument.
---
Back at the apothecary, the air was considerably calmer, filled with the soothing scent of herbs and something else—an oddly sweet and earthy aroma emanating from a bubbling cauldron. Bernie was humming softly to herself as she stirred her concoction, a low, melodic sound.
Rumi, releasing Lux with a final, gentle push, recounted the tale of the forge visit, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at Eitri's flustered, grumbling reaction. Lux sat down, arms folded tightly across her chest, leaning against the doorframe, clearly sulking. But in her arms was the halberd, its weight comforting, and her expression softened as she stared at the faint, glowing runes etched into the metal blade.
Her stolen knives had served her well, but this weapon... it felt right. It felt like hers.
"Your knives might be stolen, child, and your manners in a forge might be lacking," Bernie said suddenly, her voice soft but clear, not looking up from her brew. "But that halberd? It's yours now. And runes…" she finally met Lux's gaze, her ancient eyes sparkling with mischief and profound wisdom, "I'll teach you, child. The whispers of the world are ours to share. And I'll even speak with Eitri for you, if you promise not to nag him into madness on your next visit."
Lux perked up instantly, her earlier pout vanishing like smoke. A wide, genuine grin spread across her face. "Deal!" she declared, her voice bright with a renewed sense of purpose. This was a place where learning wasn't just possible, but encouraged, even cherished.